Slowly, Now
by Elise May
Summary: Carla. A baby. And a man she is beginning to see in a completely new light.
1. Chapter 1

_This is an idea that has been floating around my head for a while now. It will basically be a rewrite of everything that has happened since Carla's return from LA in April, except, in this, she never miscarried. Instead, she had a daughter, Hayley, who is now six months old. She and Peter are still divorced and he is living in Portsmouth; Rob is also still in prison for Tina's murder, which Carla told the police about. I'm not sure if I'm going to continue this, but please let me know if you would like me to! It would be really helpful. Thank you! (I own nothing, of course.)_

* * *

 **Slowly, Now**

* * *

She sleeps soundly on the plane, fingers which are not quite as tiny as they once were clinging to their mother's in a way that could melt even the hardest of hearts. She is fine when they land. Manchester is its usual rainy self and perhaps this comes as a comfort to her. At first, Carla had hated taking Hayley out in the sun whilst they were in LA. The thought of her overheating or burning herself had been too much for Carla to bear – but with a little bit of encouragement from Suzy, they had muddled through, and by the end of the first week, Carla could see that the sunshine was doing Hayley as much good as it was doing her. She seemed happy; her giggles by the side of the pool fueling Carla's love for her, a love which seems to grow more and more with each day that passes.

When they reach the airport, the holiday really does come to an end. Hayley wakes; and Hayley isn't happy. If Hayley isn't happy, neither is Carla – and the fact that the airline appear to have lost their luggage does not help matters in the slightest.

"What do you mean by 'there's nothing we can do other than wait _'_?" Carla asks. She's tired, jetlagged and in no mood for bullshit.

Hayley is held to her chest. Her eyes are still red from crying, her breath still in the process of being caught.

The girl Carla is talking to is only young. She is obviously inexperienced and not used to such questions. She clears her throat before she speaks.

"All of the bags that were in the aircraft will turn up eventually. It's just a case of when."

Carla nods. It is not in understanding.

"But I need my bags _now_ ," she says simply. Hayley begins to wriggle about in her arms. Her discomfort is obvious. "I also had a pram onboard, you see. An expensive pram my little girl will not be too happy if she can't get her bum into in the next five minutes."

The girl looks genuinely sorry, but this means little to Carla when all she wants to do is go home and sleep.

"We can take your details and give you a call when they turn up," she says. There is something akin to fear in her eyes that Carla duly makes a note of. She decides to let the fight leave her body and take this up with the airline at a later date. "I apologise for any inconvenience this causes."

Carla would laugh if she weren't quite so annoyed.

"Of course you are."

* * *

The driver of the taxi she manages to hail one-handedly with a baby in her arms is one of the most incompetent people Carla thinks she has ever met – and that says a lot when she considers some of the people she has employed over the years. Firstly, he finds it difficult to grasp the concept of Carla having only a handbag, even though she is being picked up from the airport. When she explains to him that the airline have lost her luggage, he says he doesn't believe her, despite having never met her before in his life.

It is the fact that she has to practically drive the taxi towards Weatherfield for him because he is not familiar with the place name, let alone the place itself, that makes Carla regret having not taken Michelle up on her offer of having Steve meet them at the airport.

Two thirds of the way into the journey, Carla notices that Hayley has managed to fall asleep, clutching the teddy bear Peter bought her for Christmas and who Simon affectionately named _Simon_ to her chest. Carla envies her daughter's ability of being able to sleep anywhere and everywhere. She has to fight to keep her eyes open herself and is only aware that she has, in fact, fallen asleep when the taxi driver rudely awakens her – and Hayley – by continuously beeping the car horn. The horn is so loud that it causes vibrations to be felt in Carla's chest.

"We're here, love! Victoria Street."

Hayley lets out a large wail. Anger boils in Carla's veins.

"Nice one," she mutters, getting out of the car. She manages to drop her handbag as she does so, the contents of which spill all over the road. "Oh, for God's sake!"

Her exclamation startles Hayley, who has began to cry. Carla immediately goes to soothe her. She takes her out of the car and places Hayley into her arms. She then looks to the driver for help, indicating with her eyes the mess she has made at her feet, but he pretends not to notice.

"That's £27.50, please," he says, undeterred.

Carla feels like screaming.

"Here. Let me."

Before Carla is even aware of what's happening, Nick Tilsley has paid for her taxi fare and is knelt down on the floor, putting her things back into her bag.

She stares at him as the taxi drives away.

"Hi," she says, looking extremely confused.

"Hi," says Nick. He smiles at Hayley as he stands to his full height. She stops crying immediately and stares at him in a way that mirrors her mother. "Here you go."

He hands Carla her bag, which she accepts from him with a furrowed brow, and places Simon back into Hayley's outstretched arms.

"How was your holiday?" he asks.

Carla nods.

"It was good, yeah." She blinks herself out of it. "Wait a minute. How much do I owe you?"

She goes to retrieve her purse, but Nick shrugs it off.

"You don't owe me anything. It's fine," he says.

Carla shakes her head.

"Don't be ridiculous, Nick." She maneuvers Hayley onto her hip as she rummages through her bag, not recognising its new order – or lack thereof. "You gave him thirty, didn't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"You shouldn't have let him keep the bloody change. He doesn't deserve it."

Nick chuckles.

"Keep your money, Carla. Please." She looks up to be met with a look of genuineness in his eyes that she has never seen before. "Call it my good deed of the day. If it means so much to you, you can pay me back another time, but I can see you've got your hands full right now."

It seems that Hayley knows she is being spoken about, for she gurgles and kicks her legs. Carla smiles at her and places a kiss to the top of her head. Nick waves at Hayley and she waves back at him just a little bit too enthusiastically.

"I'll see you later," he says, walking back the way he came.

"Okay. See you," Carla replies before calling after him, "And thanks!"

He simply smiles and carries on walking.

Carla has to laugh to herself at the absurdity of what has just taken place. It is Tracy who takes her from her thoughts, approaching the two of them with a sickly sweet smile Carla doesn't ever think she will get used to.

"How's my favourite niece?" she asks, taking Hayley's hand.

Carla rolls her eyes.

"She's your only niece, Tracy."

Tracy frowns.

"So?"

"Eh, listen. It might be a while yet before you get it, but I got you a little something whilst we were away," says Carla.

Tracy looks just as confused as Carla still feels.

"It's to say thank you," she explains. "You know, for saving my life that time."

"Oh, that!" Tracy laughs; Carla doesn't. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"Well, I did," Carla replies. "But like I say, I don't think you'll be getting it any time soon."

Tracy nods.

"How come?" she asks.

Carla has to suppress the urge to yawn.

"It's a long story," she says, holding a hand to her mouth. "And I'd love to stay and chat to you about it, but I'm afraid I may actually fall asleep standing up if I stay out here any longer."

* * *

After showering, sleeping, and feeding what turned out to be a very hungry six month old baby, Carla finally manages to build up the courage to check her work emails and, just as she expected, finds that she does not like what she sees.

Hanlon has been on at her again. He wants to place another order with Underworld, but Carla doesn't think she can deal with having another Hanlon-related headache so soon after the previous one. The order would be good for business; there's no denying that. It's just that demanding clients are honestly the last thing she needs right now when Hayley is already demanding so much from her. Maybe she shouldn't have gone back to work so soon after having her, maybe she shouldn't have taken advantage of Ken's kindness and allowed him to dote on his granddaughter in a way he'd never have imagined he'd be able to.

But Carla feels she is nothing if she can't support herself. People aren't wrong when they say that business means everything to her. If she can't work, what can she do?

She sighs, staring at her laptop screen, and wishing that someone would make her mind up for her. Eventually, she reaches for her phone and dials a number she can't wait to delete again.

"Mr. Hanlon?" She forces a smile, even though he is not in the room to see her do so. "Hello! Yes. It's Carla Connor. From Underworld? Yes, I'm fine, thank you. Now, about this order..."


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so, so much for the lovely reviews! I am sorry for how long this chapter has taken. It has been half written for what feels like months, but I've only just gotten the chance to complete it. Do let me know what you think! (And I know this may seem like it's taking ages to get going, but it's a slow burner... so be warned!)_

* * *

 **Slowly, Now**

* * *

The bistro is usually busy – but, for once, Carla is glad that it isn't. The quiet gives her the headspace she needs to declutter her brain of all things Hayley and concentrate on what Hanlon is really interested in: women's underwear.

"Are you not having any wine?"

She looks up from her paperwork to be met with a questioning look from Nick. He is standing next to her table, gesturing towards the glass of lemonade she had earlier ordered with a grimace and a longing for something much, _much_ stronger.

God knows how she'll be able to get through this meeting without that strength.

"I can't," she replies. "I'm still breastfeeding and it's _killing_ me."

His eyes widen and Carla realises a moment too late that perhaps she has shared just a little bit much too information. She laughs to herself, wondering where her sudden forwardness has come from. Nick smiles indulgently at her.

"The price of motherhood, eh?"

"I suppose so." Carla shrugs. "It is worth it, though. If I'm being honest, I think that becoming a mother is the best thing that could've happened to me. You know, after everything."

Nick nods. There is something different about Carla that he can't quite put his finger on. Her smiles are wider and she wears them more often. She holds her head up high when out in the street, daring anyone and everyone to say something. Just one word. She knows they're dying to. People are gasping to tell her of their surprise, their disbelief in many cases, that she is a mother and a pretty damn good one at that. Despite all of the doubts and the setbacks and the sleepless nights she spent worrying that she would never be good enough for her child, motherhood _does_ suit Carla. It makes her eyes practically gleam with happiness whenever her daughter is near and it's a beautiful thing to witness.

It has forced many people, including Nick, to swallow their pride and admit to themselves they they were wrong. She _can_ do this. She is doing it every day and she is doing it in the only way Carla Connor knows how to do anything; and that is brilliantly.

"I think so, too," Nick says.

Carla can't hide her surprise.

"Thanks," she replies. "I'm glad I'm not the only one."

Nick nods his head and leaves her to it.

* * *

Hanlon is late, of course.

Hanlon is never _not_ late.

Carla silently fumes in her seat, glancing over at the door every thirty seconds, wishing that he'd just arrive and put her out of her misery. She is about to pack up her things and head for the exit when Nick makes his way over to her, his arms folded across his chest and a thoughtful look on his face.

"Have you been stood up?" There is a hint of mirth in his voice.

"No, of course not!" Carla exclaims. She then lets out a big sigh. "Oh, I don't know! I don't ever know anything when it comes to this particular client."

"A bit of an handful, is he?"

Carla snorts.

"You don't know the half of it." But that isn't necessarily true. She pauses upon realising this, a smirk crossing her lips and a memory springing to mind that she doesn't think she'll ever forget for as long as she lives. "Actually, I think you might. Do you remember a Mr. Hanlon? Guy in a wheelchair, receding hairline? He's got a wife he hates. One of them faces you just want to slap."

Nick does remember, he _must_ remember, for he has suddenly gone rather quiet. He is trying not to give himself away.

"Um..."

Carla begins to laugh.

"Yeah, you do! And I bet you also remember that meeting, don't you? That meeting when you peeved him off so much, you lost us the order, and he ran over your foot on the way out."

She is grinning, attempting to hold back her laughter before it becomes hysterical. Nick blushes. He rolls his eyes and finally admits that, "Alright, yes! Okay! Of course I remember. How could I forget? It really hurt, you know!"

Carla covers her face with her hands in an attempt to calm herself down.

"God, you were so useless," she says, but not unkindly. It's strange to think of that time now. So much has happened since they were unlikely and reluctant partners in a business only one of them really had the ability to make succeed. (And did.) It almost feels like that partnership existed in a different life, for they were, essentially, different people back then. "I used to hate you, you know."

She says this softly. She says this with honesty.

Nick smiles despite himself.

"I know," he says, looking rather amused. "I used to hate you, too."

* * *

Carla waits for Hanlon to arrive, but he doesn't – proving her wrong for the first time in their seven year acquaintance. Despite losing the order before it has even been drawn up, she is glad. It gives her the night off to spend how she pleases. No business, no Hayley; just herself, a nice bottle of non-alcoholic wine, and any DVD she so chooses to watch.

After paying the bill and making it half way home, she is surprised to find that Nick is walking in the same direction as her, albeit on the other side of the road.

"Hey!" she calls over to him. "Where are you going? It was heaving in there when I left."

She points back at the bistro. Nick smiles at her in rather a smug manner.

"I know!" he calls back. "That's why I've left Leanne to it! It's my night off."

Carla nods.

"Nice," she says. "You heading home, then?"

"Yeah!"

Nick crosses the road to walk with her, the constant shouting over the traffic beginning to turn the heads of passersby.

"Are you not going to pick Hayley up?"

They have walked past number one.

"No." Carla shakes her head. "Ken offered to have her for the night and I couldn't refuse."

Nick snorts. _Couldn't_ and _didn't want to_ are two completely different concepts.

"What?" Carla rolls her eyes. "I couldn't!"

Nick doesn't look too sure about this.

"Whatever you say," he sings.

They smile at each other, a little unsure as to why they are conversing in the first place, and carry on walking. They soon reach the flats; and once indoors, their talking stalls and they begin to feel very awkward in one another's company. It seems they hadn't thought this far ahead and it is obvious.

They pass Nick's flat first.

His eyes flicker between Carla and the door. His hands are in his pockets, fishing around for the key to his flat in a manner as discrete as he can manage. He doesn't know what to say, so it is a good job that Carla does.

"Enjoy your night off."

Nick nods.

"You too," he replies.

It takes her a moment to realise what he is talking about, but the lack of baby spit on her shoulder should have been a dead giveaway. She decides to blame her obliviousness on the sleep she has yet to catch up on.

"Yes." Carla smiles at him. "Yes, I will. Thank you."

* * *

Carla spends most of the next morning in bed, a luxury she had almost forgotten existed. She isn't hungover, of course; but the jetleg doesn't seem to have left her quite yet. Her first thought is of Hayley. She finds herself wondering whether she is still jetlagged, too, before rolling her eyes at the thought, for babies can't be such things – at least, not in the same way that adults can.

She dresses slowly, taking her time in choosing what to wear. It's a Sunday and it feels like one; lazy, inconsequential. Carla almost trips on one of Hayley's toys on her way to the kitchen and it is this stumble that makes her abandon the idea of producing her own breakfast, instead opting to have Roy make it for her once she has collected Hayley from Ken's.

Carla has missed her friends. She doesn't have many of them, but the ones that she has found in Roy and Michelle are for life. This, she knows. Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, she texts Michelle to see if she can meet her in the cafe for a catchup. She can, it seems. Carla smiles and reaches for her makeup bag.

* * *

"How was she, Ken?"

Hayley is awake in her arms, kicking her legs increasingly – almost as if in protest – as Carla walks her closer to the door.

"She was an angel," Ken says. As if she could be anything but.

Carla smiles her appreciation and bids Ken goodbye. She then steps out onto the street, where she almost steps into the very man she had managed to avoid only minutes earlier. They had left their respective flats at pretty much the same time, and Carla had not been in the mood for sharing small talk so soon after the night before. They had ran out of things to say so quickly. The awkwardness had been painful.

"Hello!"

"Hell— _Oh_."

Nick's greeting had actually been for Hayley, not Carla. Why this bothers her she cannot say.

"Are you stalking me?" The question automatically falls from her lips and Nick grins at it, his eyes moving from Hayley to Carla so quickly that it almost takes Carla aback. _Almost_.

"Don't flatter yourself," he says, but she can tell her even suggesting the idea has done more than flatter him. "We live in the same building. We work on the same street."

Carla rolls her eyes and bounces Hayley on her hip.

"Funny that. I'd never realised."

And perhaps there is some truth in that.

Perhaps there is more truth in it than Carla would ever care to admit.

"You off home, then?"

She shakes her head at his quiet question.

"No. We're off to Roy's," she says. Hayley lifts her head from her mother's shoulder to stare at Nick, though he doesn't seem too put off by this. He simply smiles at her, brightly.

Nick then nods.

"Well, enjoy."

There is nothing else to say and the conversation _could_ have reached a natural end – but Carla, despite not wanting to, prolongs it; prolongs the agony.

"You're not heading into work at this time on a Sunday, are you?" she asks, to which Nick laughs just a bit too enthusiastically for her liking.

"No, no. Of course not. I'm off to my mum's." She should've known. The corners of her lips pull into a smirk that he pretends not to notice. "It's Sunday. 'Family day'."

Her eyes widen and she laughs uneasily. He uses air quotes and everything.

"Oh, I see." She nods her head. "You know, I do love a good Sunday roast."

"Me too." Carla can practically feel the awkwardness creeping back up on them, breathing down her neck in a way that is less than comfortable; so she is thankful that Nick has the sense to end the conversation she should've ended herself when she was given the opportunity to. "Well, I'll see you later, then."

"Are you working tonight?"

The words leave her mouth before she is able to stop them.

This makes Nick, who had already began to walk in the opposite direction to Carla, to spin around on his heel to face her again.

"Sorry?"

Carla can feel her face burning. "Tonight. Are you working?"

"Yes, I am." Nick smiles sheepishly. He looks amused, something which Carla does not appreciate when she is feeling this embarrassed. "Why do you ask?"

 _Ugh_. She doesn't even know.

"No reason," Carla says. So why can she think of plenty?

* * *

 _Oh, and your eyes are not deceiving you! I have changed the title of this. It was "Baby Brain"; it is now "Slowly, Now". Yeah, I'm sorry. I do this a lot._


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you so much for your kind reviews! I cannot tell you how appreciated they are._

* * *

 **Slowly, Now**

* * *

Hayley's giggles can be heard from the other room, accompanied by the sound of Michelle's laughter; Michelle, who has been fussing over her since the moment they first laid eyes on each other in the cafe. Hours have passed since then, and they are back at Carla's flat. It is now evening, it is now _tonight_ , and Carla is beginning to regret ever opening her mouth when she was with Nick earlier, for she now feels morally obliged to visit him at work. She isn't entirely sure why. All she knows is that it would be rude not to. Maybe he is expecting her. Maybe if she doesn't turn up, he'll be disappointed. She's overthinking it. She knows she is. But this knowledge does little to ease her nerves.

"Carla!"

Michelle interrupts her from her thoughts. She pokes her head around the bedroom door and smiles warmly at her friend.

"What are you doing in here?" she asks.

Carla looks down at the ten and twenty pound notes in her lap. She has taken them out of her purse without conscious thought. She folds the edge of one, just to give her something to do.

"I need to head out somewhere," she says, the words rushed, forced out of her mouth quickly before she has time to _think_ and change her mind.

Michelle frowns.

"What?"

"You can look after Hayley for me, can't you? I'll be an hour tops." Carla stands suddenly from the bed and goes to retrieve her heels. Michelle's eyes follow her as she makes her way around the room. Carla doesn't have to look at her to know that she is frowning. "I just need to go and see someone."

"Who?"

They catch each other's eyes. Carla looks away quickly, as if the answer lies within her gaze; something which Michelle finds intriguing. Very intriguing. If she didn't know Carla any better, perhaps she would mistake her expression for one of shyness.

"No one," Carla says.

But Michelle isn't convinced.

"I will get it out of you, you know," she sings. She looks – and sounds – rather smug.

Carla simply rolls her eyes, grabs a lipstick, and kisses Michelle on the forehead.

"I'll be an hour tops. Promise."

* * *

Sunday nights are often quiet in the bistro and tonight is no exception. After the rush at lunchtime has passed and the restaurant has emptied itself, Nick finds he has very little to do. It is Leanne's night off, a given since she is the one with a child and he is the one without, and Steph and Gavin are never much fun when they are working together, both far more interested in each other to take note of anything or anyone else.

Nick leans against the bar, having poured himself a drink. He wants to call what he is currently on a break, but he hasn't done anything in the past hour more strenuous than clearing glasses and cleaning tables, so what he is taking a break from he can't really say. With a sigh, he lifts his glass of orange juice to his lips and is about to take a sip when the door creaks open. A gush of cold air follows Carla as she enters, or rather bursts into, the bistro. She hasn't changed since the morning; her heels the same, shirt the same, jeans the same. And yet Nick finds he cannot take his eyes from her. They take her in as if it is the first time he has seen her in such a way and he has to take a sip of his drink just so he can speak, his throat suddenly very dry.

Carla smiles as she notices his staring, though she tells herself she is imagining most of it, especially the way his eyes rake over her before they settle on her face, his soft smile matching her own. She places her bag down onto the bar beside him and brushes her slightly windswept hair out of her face. It has gotten progressively less straight as the day has gone on, but Nick thinks it suits her more in this way. Not straight and not curly; just so. Natural is the word for it, he supposes.

"Hi," she says. Her voice is somewhat quiet as she reaches into her bag.

"Hello," says Nick. He moves to stand behind the other side of the bar so that he can serve her. "Can I get you a drink?"

She thinks on this for a moment, but then decides against it. She doesn't, however, answer his question. Instead, she places the ten and twenty pound notes she'd gotten out earlier onto the bar and pushes them towards Nick. He looks confused. He dares to touch the edge of one.

"What's this?" he asks.

"Money." Nick laughs at that. She elaborates, "You know, for the taxi? From the other day?"

It clicks.

"I thought I'd told you to forget about that."

"Yeah. Well, I didn't." She picks the notes back up and places them into his hand. "Take it."

He sighs.

"Carla," he begins.

"Nick, just take it. Please."

There is no way he can't. Not when she is throwing him a stern look he quickly comes to realise he has missed being on the receiving end of.

"Fine." This sigh is louder than his previous one. He takes the money and stuffs it into his jacket pocket. "Thank you. So..."

Carla smiles.

"You know what? You can get me that drink if you want."

Nick nods.

"A sparking lemonade, is it?" He is smirking at her, but this isn't the reason she is so unamused. She is unamused because he is right.

"You're not funny," she informs him.

"Okay. Fine. But it is, though, isn't it?"

Carla huffs and folds her arms across her chest.

"Yes," she admits, her lips pursed.

* * *

For some reason, when Nick shows her to her table, he decides not to leave it and takes the seat across from hers. They sit in a silence that isn't what one might call comfortable, but it certainly isn't as awkward as Carla had been expecting it to be. She sips on her lemonade and he sips on his orange juice. She wants to laugh at how sensible this encounter feels. She's still not used to going without alcohol in social situations such as these. Thank goodness she'll soon be able to consume it again.

Nick places his glass down on the table and looks up at her.

"So, tell me. Who've you gone and palmed Hayley off onto now?"

His question is so direct and so unexpected that she almost chokes on her drink. She shoots him daggers.

"She is currently having some long overdue cuddles with her Auntie 'Chelle," she informs him. "Come on, Nick. I could hardly bring her with me, could I?"

"Oh, I don't know."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I mean, Hayley's well behaved from what I've seen. Very well behaved. Her mother, on the other hand..."

This earns him a slap to the arm. He groans as if in pain and then he chuckles, grinning at her in a way that makes her want to grin back. (She doesn't.)

"Excuse me," she says.

"What?" He is still laughing, holding his hands up in a form of surrender. "I'm just saying!"

Carla is about to reply to him when the shrill of his phone ringing interrupts them. He looks at her apologetically, mouthing a quick, _sorry_ , before he answers it.

"Hello? Yes. What? Sarah, no. I've already told you that I haven't. Don't be ridiculous. If I had, do you really think I'd deny you of it? It'd help me out as well as —" He sighs loudly, having obviously been cut short and interrupted. "Yeah. Right, okay. I just told you that, didn't I? Okay. Yes, Sarah. Whatever. I'll see you soon. No, not tonight. No, I'm working. Sarah! Sarah, don't put the—"

But she has already hung up. Carla's glass is now empty, she having been drinking from it almost continuously throughout the course of the phone call.

"Family troubles, eh?" she asks softly, already knowing the answer. His sigh confirms this to her. "I'm guessing 'family day' wasn't very..."

"Enjoyable?" Nick laughs incredulously. Deep down, he is slightly in shock that she has even remembered that part of their conversation from earlier, but then it seems she is full of surprises these days. "No, it wasn't. Sarah spent the whole afternoon pestering me for work. David's going out of his mind over this whole custody battle thing. And Mum's just... well, you know how she is."

Carla smiles, a little overwhelmed and unsure of what to say. Nick shakes his head at himself.

"I'm sorry. You don't want to hear all of this."

Her answer surprises even her. "Yes, I do."

And just like that, one hour turns into two.

* * *

Michelle isn't as annoyed as Carla thought she would be when she returns home at nine instead of eight. Hayley is fast asleep in front of the television, her moses basket positioned next to the sofa. The laptop is on the arm of it and is apparently broken. Michelle has never looked more guilty and Carla quickly comes to realise that this is the reason she hasn't commented on her lateness. She leaves with the promise of sending someone over to fix the laptop the following day, but before Michelle has even closed the door behind her, Carla is already dialling Nick's number and hating herself for it with every ring.

 _Why can't she leave him alone?_

The voice in her head sounds a lot like Nick's.

A loud knock against the door a few minutes later causes Hayley to stir. Carla stands from the sofa and curses under her breath, running a soothing finger down her daughter's cheek before she goes let Nick in.

"Keep the noise down, will you?" she hisses. "I've a sleeping child here and I'd very much like for her to stay that way."

Nick enters the flat and makes a point of being quiet. He notices Hayley in the living room and smiles softly over at her. Carla frowns somewhat. His voice is a whisper.

"You can't keep away from me today, can you?"

Carla ignores him completely. She does not like the truth in his words.

"What do you know about technology?"

She walks over to the sofa, where the dead laptop is currently sitting. She places herself down upon it and Nick does the same. He is mindful of Hayley, who is sleeping by his feet. He places the computer onto his lap and attempts to switch it on.

"Not a lot," he admits. "How come?"

"Oh." Carla doesn't try to hide her disappointment. "It's just that Michelle thinks she's broken the laptop whilst I was out and I kind of need it to be working. You know, for work and that."

Nick nods, slowly.

"Well, I can certainly try and fix it," he says, to which she smiles. He runs his hand across the keyboard and frowns when nothing happens.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Carla replies.

* * *

It turns out that Nick isn't as much as a computer whizz as Carla had bigged him up to be in her head. The laptop remains broken and Nick remains in her flat. Some trashy television show plays quietly from the box, a show so trashy it seems to have sent Carla to sleep. She is hunched up in the corner of the sofa, her head resting against one of her hands, which is laid flat against the arm. Nick smiles at how peaceful she looks. His visit to her flat has been worth it if only for her promise of finding Sarah something to do at the factory. That's one of his problems resolved, at least.

There is a slight chill in the air despite the spring month they are currently in, so Nick stands and looks around for a blanket to cover Carla with, having noticed the goosebumps prickling at her bare arms. He quickly locates one and throws it lightly over her. She doesn't move as he does so, something which fills Nick with relief. He reaches for the remote to switch off the television and as he does so, he hears the sound of kicking at his feet.

Nick looks down at Hayley and notices that she is now wide awake. She stares up at him with wide, sleepy eyes so alike in colour to her mother's that it is almost off putting. He smiles at her and reaches for one of her outstretched hands, his smile only widening as she tightly squeezes his fingers. Nick is at a loss for what to say, knowing that he could so easily break the peace if he says so much as a word wrong. Instead, he stays silent and simply holds her hand. His experience with babies (and children in general) is so limited that his heart feels as if it is going to beat out of his chest at the thought of upsetting the one that is currently clinging to his hand. The thought of upsetting her mother as a result is even more terrifying to him, for he does not know how she can be when she is sleep deprived, and he does not wish to find out.

"You can hold her if you like."

He lets out a sharp breath. He hadn't realised that Carla had woken. Her eyes are only half open and she is further burrowing herself into the blanket Nick had laid on top of her. She is staring at Nick, staring at how transfix her daughter appears to be by him. Nick does not take his eyes from Hayley as he speaks to Carla.

"No. We're alright, aren't we?" he says in a soft voice she knows isn't directed at her.

Carla closes her eyes again, as if to go back to sleep.

"Don't let her keep you," she murmurs. "She'll hold you all night if you let her. She's like that. Clingy, easily amused."

Nick turns his head to look at Carla. His face looks so content, his smile so genuine. She sighs softly, a strange type of happiness welling in her chest.

"I honestly don't mind," he whispers. And she believes him.


	4. Chapter 4

_I am so glad people are still enjoying this! Your reviews mean an awful lot to me. There is so, so much more of this to come and I'm sorry for the slow updates, but I like to take my time when writing this one for some reason. Anyway, that's enough of my rambling... Here's the fourth chapter!_

* * *

 **Slowly, Now**

* * *

A week has passed since Hayley gained a friend and Carla finds the frequency of her encounters with Nick are on the rise, though the awkwardness which she feels during each of them is declining and declining dramatically. Such meetings between them are now bordering on familiar; overfamiliar. People are noticing. Take Leanne, for example. Carla has began to earn herself more eyerolls than usual, her aloud wondering as to why Carla now spends most of her lunchtimes propping up the bistro bar grating quickly. _To help out a local business like my own_ is the feeble excuse she often comes up with. Her joke of _I hope you'll return the favour when your knicker elastic loosens_ always seems to fall flat.

On Leanne's ears, that is. But not on Nick's.

He has told her multiple times now that he thinks she is incredibly witty. She can't argue with him on that. Nor does she argue with his insistence that she should smile more often and laugh at the jokes he tells she doesn't find funny, just to be polite and save - in his words - his weak heart the embarrassment of having to acknowledge the fact that his sense of humour is not all it used to be.

True to her word, Carla does manage to find Sarah a job at the factory. It's in packing and it involves working in very close proximity with Kirk, but it's better than nothing. That's what she hears Nick remind his sister as he practically pushes her into Underworld bright and early on the Monday morning, as promised.

"Ah! There she is!"

It may be early, but Sarah isn't. In fact, she is a whole ten minutes late.

She is dressed as she may have done back in Milan, when her name meant something in spaces such as Carla's. Not at all in the way Carla has seen her dress since she arrived back in Weatherfield. Gone are the comfy clothes, the mom jeans and her hair scraped back into a ponytail. Sarah looks smart and sophisticated and so overdressed for the job at hand that it is almost embarrassing. Carla has to hide her grimace.

"I was gonna send a search party out for you!" she says, approaching the siblings.

Behind them, the girls (and Sean, and Kirk) are already hard at work. Well, as hard as they are able to work before their first tea break of the day, which Carla just knows Beth will soon suggest is upon them, despite the workforce having only been inside the building for no less than an hour.

"Oh." Sarah looks somewhat apprehensive, smoothing down her skirt. "Sorry if we're a bit late. Had to drop Bethany off at the bus stop beforehand."

Carla nods, unconvinced.

"Right." The fact that Nick does not, cannot, meet her eyes tells her all she needs to know about that particular lie. "Well." And Carla guides Sarah over to the corner of the factory floor, where Kirk is waiting for them with a daft grin and a box balancing on each of his shoulders. "Sarah, this is Kirk. Kirk, this is Sarah."

She can almost hear Sarah rolling her eyes.

"Yes. Kirk and I have met before," she replies, exasperated.

Carla grins.

"Ah, good! Then you'll get on like a house on fire, won't you?" She pats Sarah on the arm and begins to walk away from her, back towards Nick, calling over her shoulder, "It's pretty simple what you've got to do! Any questions, ask Kirk; he's the cardboard and plastic expert around here!"

When she meets Nick by the door, he has a fond smile on his face that almost takes her aback. He had been watching their exchange unfold with folded arms and a thoughtful expression on his face. He doesn't speak when she approaches. He instead tilts his head and smiles even wider.

"What?" she asks, beginning to feel rather self conscious.

"Nothing," he replies. "Just... thank you for that. You didn't have to find her a job."

Carla raises a brow.

"Oh, but I did. A favour for a favour, remember?"

Nick shakes his head.

"Yes, but I never did fix your laptop, did I?" he reminds her.

Carla purses her lips and then shrugs. "You would've if you could've; that's the main thing. And it's all working fine now, so it's no matter. Besides, it's a job in packing. I'll be surprised if she even lasts the day."

Across the room, as if on queue, the sound of Sarah dropping a box from great height cuts conversations short. All that can be heard is the repetitive hum of working sewing machines as everyone shamelessly gorps at her. Her embarrassment is evident in the way her cheeks burn a bright red and she quickly makes her way down the stairs to collect the disarranged items from the floor. Kirk is nowhere to be seen.

Carla bites her lip down in discomfort and turns to Nick, who is trying to hold back laughter.

"I think you may be right," he admits and as he turns to leave, Carla places a hand on his arm. Upon realising how this may look to the gossip mill they are currently standing within the vicinity of, she quickly pulls it away. But it's too late. It's as if her hand has left an impression - not visible, but very much felt - against him and he stares at her. She stares back. She forgets what it is she wanted to say to him.

"Bistro?" It's one word that she is immensely grateful to hear, for it is one of the ones that now feels completely lost to her.

She nods.

"Yes."

"At lunch," Nick clarifies. "You can update me on Sarah."

She smiles.

"And is that all?"

Nick pauses before shaking his head, just a fraction. "You'll have to wait and see, won't you?"

* * *

It turns out that Sarah isn't as bad as Carla had predicted. She makes it to lunchtime with not a smile, but at least there are no tears in sight and she has learnt rather quickly to hold her head up high as far as the other girls are concerned. The bistro is quiet when she enters to find that Nick is on his break. At least, this is what Gavin tells her when he points her in the direction of his office, the office she stands in front of unsurely for at least two whole minutes before the door opens to reveal Nick, chuckling softly to himself. It doesn't take Carla long to realise why.

"How long have you been standing there for?" he asks her, but not unkindly.

Carla's eyes are met with the porthole in the office door. She groans slightly, hiding her head in her hands in a way that makes him drop the question immediately.

"Just get us a drink, will you?"

And he does. He gets Gavin to pour her something soft as he sits at the bar with her, a smile on his lips he can't seem to shift. A smile she returns without really noticing, without knowing or wanting to know the reason as to why.

She takes a sip of her drink before placing down the glass. Nick's fingers are running up and down the edge of the bar. A nervous habit; simply something to do.

"So, tell me. How's Sarah been so far?" he asks.

Carla can't help but chuckle. "Not terrible, actually. Not brilliant, mind; but definitely not terrible."

Nick looks satisfied with her answer.

"Good," he says. "And I hope you told her that. I know what Sarah can be like. She hates to feel undervalued."

Carla frowns a little.

"Nick, it's her first day," she reminds him.

"Yeah, but _—_ "

"One step at a time, eh?" And she places her hand down on his thigh. Similarly to earlier, it makes her stop and think. Makes his breath catch, his palms sweat. Unlike earlier, however, they are alone. Not entirely, of course; but no one of importance is about. No one they know, no one who knows them. This knowledge is what allows Carla to let her hand linger, let it pat his leg before slowly letting go. Nick looks rather flustered by the end of it and is smiling wider, staring down into his lap.

"It's funny. If it weren't for Hayley, I'd be drinking right now. On me lunch break. Proper drinking," she says with a little laugh, wanting to break the tension she can no longer pretend doesn't exist between them.

"Oh, come on," Nick replies. "What's wrong with that? You've got to learn to live a little."

She thinks on that for a moment.

"Sometimes I feel like I've lived too much."

Nick is surprised by the seriousness of her reply, surprised that she hasn't told him the reason he isn't so against her bad drinking habits is because they are what help to line his designer pockets. He turns to look at her, really look at her, as she stares off into space. He nudges her shoulder with his, a friendly reminder that she is not alone in her thoughts or with them either. He agrees with what she is saying in regards to himself, but they both know that he would never admit to that aloud.

"I think you've lived enough, you know? I think you've lived the right amount. Everything you've experienced up to this point has been for a reason." She catches his eye, intrigued. "It's cliché, I know, but I think you see that reason every time you see your daughter." He nods, so sure of what he is saying. "You see it in her. She is the reason."

Carla smiles at him.

"You're right," she says and then her eyes roll. "Stop being so bloody perceptive, will you?"

* * *

Sarah survives a week at work; Bethany a week at school. To congratulate them and to apologise whilst breaking the news that he isn't willing to share his flat with anyone, family or not, Nick decides to treat them to a chippy tea. He is exiting the shop, food in hand, when he spots Carla pushing Hayley in the direction of the Rovers. The bottom of the infant's pram is full of bags, shopping bags. Nick knows that what is in them is none of his business. He knows that what happens in Carla's life isn't any of his business either. But that doesn't stop him approaching them, smiling at them, giving Hayley a little wave.

She bounces in her seat. She is the most awake he thinks he has ever seen her and her smile is beyond infectious.

"Hello," he greets them.

For what seems to be the first time, Carla does not look surprise to see him. Or reluctant to speak to him. She looks accepting of it for a change; it is welcome to her.

"Hello," she mirrors. She gestures towards the plastic bag he is carrying. "You hungry?"

It does look rather full.

"It's not all for me," he assures her and she merely nods, letting the subject drop. He gestures towards her bags. "And what's all this?"

His nosiness makes even him cringe.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" Carla grins. She is brushing her fingers over the top of Hayley's head, where dark hair began to form a long time ago, soft hair whose mother's fingertips have the ability to make her sleepy with when pressed against. Hayley yawns and Nick just cannot get over the way in which she does it. The way her face seems to momentarily fold into itself, her little hands rubbing at her droopy eyes, nose then pressed to her blanket, the soft noises that escape her mouth hidden behind the comfort it offers to her. His awe at her daughter makes Carla want to blush, but she doesn't. She instead shakes her head at him and points towards the pub. "You know Michelle, don't you?"

Nick narrows his eyes.

"Actually, I don't..."

Carla carries on regardless of his joking.

"Well, she's getting married, in't she? In less than a month now. And I, being the fabulous maiden of honour that I am, decided to take to the Trafford Centre today - on my day off, I might add - to buy her a few things she may or may not want."

She seems to have gone coy all of a sudden. Nick is deadpan.

"So, underwear, then?"

His bluntness just makes her laugh. "No, idiot. If I wanted underwear, I wouldn't have to go out for it, would I?" He doesn't seem convinced. "It's just wedding stuff, honestly. Some of the little bits that are as, if not more, important than the dress. But you know. You're a man, so I don't think you'd understand."

He opens his mouth to speak, to tell her of his offence, decides against it, but then comes out with, "These little bits. You'd know all about their importance, wouldn't you? I mean, bar my mum, I don't think anyone around here has gotten married as much as you."

She wants to be taken aback, but his words are just taken in her stride.

"What can I say?" she replies. "It's a hobby of mine."

With a sarcastic smile, she brushes past him, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time. As she continues towards the Rovers, her smile becomes genuine and perhaps a little bit too large. Nick stares after her as she walks away, a stare which Bethany - who is walking from the bus stop towards her uncle - clocks immediately.

She shakes her head at the obviousness of him. His subtlety leaves a lot to be desired.

 _Oh, for God's sake..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Slowly, Now**

* * *

"Uncle Nick!"

Her voice is like a foghorn at the best of times, so the empty street that she projects it down does little to conceal this fact from everyone else. His name bounces off the walls of neighbours' houses and Nick is careful not to move the baby currently dozing in his arms for the fear of waking her - that is, if his niece's call has not already achieved this. With a heavy sigh, Bethany makes her way over to Nick and to Hayley, her bag swinging over her shoulder, footsteps sure and loud against the cobbled surface on which she walks.

Or, rather, trots.

"What are you doing holding your lady friend's baby in the middle of the street?" she asks. As bold as ever.

If it were anyone else asking such a question, Nick may have been taken aback. But she has asked him far worse recently in relation to Carla and his, as she put it, 'motives' towards her, so he simply rolls his eyes at her choice of words and instead smiles down at Hayley. Her eyes are half open and she is resting her head snuggly against his shoulder. He is glad that the coat he is wearing is made of material which is soft. Hayley seems to think it is, little fingers grabbing at the lapels. She is tired because she didn't sleep at all the previous night. Didn't let her mummy either by the sound of things, but no signs of exhaustion are visible on Carla's face this afternoon. Nick knows because he had a look, a good look, when she approached moments earlier him with a smile and a grumble and an eagerness to talk. She had been chatty for a change and he had revelled internally at that.

"She is not my lady friend," Nick replies, defiant. "And Hayley here—" Upon hearing her name, her lips quirk upwards in her sleepy state. It is as if she knows that she is being discussed and the sight of it is so precious, Nick swears it touches his heart. "—is not a baby. Are you, baby?"

Bethany feels slightly out of place, watching their exchange. Her awkwardness is visibly apparent.

"Right…" She scuffs her shoe against the curb. "And where is Carla?"

"She's on the phone."

Nick points over in her direction. She is standing by the factory, phone to her ear. She waves over at them when Bethany flashes her a very bright, very false smile. As the girl turns and allows Carla to leave her sight, the older woman frowns, wondering what all that was about and whether or not it is her they are talking about, given the stupid smile she can see on Nick's face despite the distance between them.

"Right. Okay." Bethany nods. "So let me get this straight. You walk out of work, see Carla and her baby; her phone rings, she dumps the baby on you. And so..."

"I'm literally left holding the baby, yes." Nick chuckles before seriousness seeps into his tone, the type that Bethany finds ever so patronising. "Why aren't you in school?"

"It's dinnertime," she informs him.

"Yeah. Well done. But that doesn't explain why I can see you."

She is about to retaliate when Carla - and she knows that it's Carla because of her heels and the sound that they make as they carry her towards them - approaches. She feels a hand squeeze her shoulder and receives a smile as equally large and off putting as the one she had given out earlier and it makes her regret having been so cheeky.

Carla says nothing to her, but smiles at Nick. Grins at him. There is a moment where neither speak. They merely look at each other, really look for a second time already today, and then, just as quickly, they look away. Carla distracts herself by staring at the floor, attempting to conceal a smile. Bethany is sure Nick is blushing as he turns his attention towards Hayley. Hayley, who hasn't yet clocked her mother's reappearance, too busy gorping over Nick's comfy shoulder down the street she doesn't nearly see enough of.

"Thanks for that, Nick," says Carla. "You're a star."

And before she can think (let alone overly so) about what she is doing, she presses a lingering kiss of gratitude to his already burning cheek. Naturally, he is taken aback by her actions which come completely out of nowhere. He freezes somewhat; Hayley completely still in his arms.

Bethany watches on with a feeling akin to delight. She wants to make some sort of sarcastic comment, wants to tease them, ask them what it is that is taking them so long to get it on.

But she doesn't. She just smiles as Carla, with shaky breath, transfers Hayley from Nick's arms into her own and makes a point of not touching him. Not his skin; not now. Her nerves are shattered. Her earlier confidence from seconds ago had, of course, been faked rather than felt, but it is completely gone now.

Nick takes a deep breath before he trusts himself to speak again.

"That's alright," he says. He squeezes Hayley's hand. She seems more awake in the arms of her mother and she is looking towards him, leaning towards him as he affectionately strokes her cheek. Nick turns his attention to Carla and is lost for breath. The brightness of her eyes, how her hair hangs about her head. The lipstick shade that he's noticed has gotten lighter recently and how perfectly she is able to apply her makeup.

He doesn't even want to think about all that is below her head, for he knows then he will not be able to stop until the picture in his head is complete, and doesn't know what else to say, but what he does say turns into the question of, "I'll see you later?"

How needy. He feels dread in his chest for her response. Whatever it will be, he is sure it will contain some element of pity. In all seriousness, he pities himself and his desperation to see her. Constantly.

What she does reply with surprises him. She holds his eyes as she speaks.

"Yeah, you will," she says, and it sounds like a promise. Followed by a quiet, a tentative, "Definitely," which causes Bethany to smirk. An idea pops into her head and all thoughts of milking Nick for 'lunch' money leave it. She can do better than that.

Nick replies, "Yes. Definitely," smiling broadly to himself as he slowly walks away. Carla buries her nose into the hair on the top of Hayley's head, almost shyly, and does not like the way Bethany is looking at her. She feels as if she has been found out.

"What?" she asks, bemused.

Bethany gestures towards Hayley, who has already rewrapped her mother's hair around her fingers. "I'll mind your baby for you if you like."

Carla nods. "She does have a name, you know?"

"I know that. It's Hayley. Isn't it, Hayley?"

Hayley looks in the opposite direction. Carla frowns at Bethany.

"Why do you wanna mind my daughter? What's in it for you?"

The girl gives a predictably dramatic sigh.

"Hopefully money. I'm not gonna lie to you. That, and a little bit of happiness for my favourite ever uncle."

"Nick?"

"No, David." This sarcastic comment is followed by the narrowing of her eyes.

"Alright, alright. I know David isn't your favourite. The things he put you through when you were little… I have two words for you: ecstasy doll."

Bethany is rather surprised by this. The fact that Nick discusses his family's affairs with his would be girlfriend makes this situation more serious than she had previously thought.

"I am of course talking about my Uncle Nick. Just put a smile on his face, will you? He's like a lost little puppy these days. Now that he hardly sees you."

That's true. They have both been so busy recently, what with work commitments and Carla's hassles with Hayley along with the planning of Michelle's wedding; then there's Nick who's got David's court case and all of the Platt related drama that comes along with that. They've barely had a moment to themselves to socialise, to go out, to meet with friends. (Friends being each other.) It's sad.

But Carla remains noncommittal, wanting to be persuaded further.

"Come on, Carla! You know you want to! Take Michelle! That'll make things less awkward - or more awkward. It depends on what you're going for, really, doesn't it?" Bethany resorts to batting her eyelashes. She is willing to beg at this point. "Please?"

Carla chuckles at her unwavering attempts. She's sold.

"Fine!" she says. She then pauses. This is said more to herself. "I'll get more than just a smile out of him if I can help it."

* * *

Michelle is surprised by Carla's request to go out; surprised more at where she wants to go out to and even further by the news that comes with the request.

They enter the bistro in the midst of laughter. Carla hasn't changed since the morning and as Nick's eyes fall upon her across the bar, she finds herself regretting instantly that decision, cutting her laughter short and attempting to compose herself. Dumping her bag onto the nearest stool to her, she breathes out a lengthy sigh and taps her hand across the bar. Nick walks over to them, smiling.

"I want a large glass of red, please," Carla announces. "No questions, no sarcastic comments. Just…"

Nick catches Michelle's eyes and they share a look of slight apprehension. He doesn't question Carla, however. He does his job. Brings over a bottle and two glasses (he almost reaches for three, but doesn't want to push his luck too far) and places them down onto the bar in front of her. He is about to pour for them when Carla closes her hand around his, the movement so sudden, he does not react to it at all.

"Oh, you know what? Give me the bottle." She yanks it from his grasp and goes to pour the drinks herself. He hadn't realised he was being quite so slow.

He frowns, but looks more than amused.

"Is she alright?" he asks Michelle.

"Yes." Carla answers for herself. "I am more than alright, thank you very much."

Nick nods.

"So what's going on?"

Michelle takes a seat.

"Well, she came up to see me earlier. Said she's done with the whole breastfeeding thing now and will I take her out to celebrate?" Her brows are raised.

Carla scoffs.

"I think you'll find the term I used was _get hammered_."

This earns her a chuckle from Nick.

"I thought you were all for it? The whole breastfeeding thing, I mean." Carla downs most of her first glass in one gulp and lets out the most satisfied sound. She pops her lips together and gives a hum of satisfaction. "The getting hammered thing, I _know_."

She stares down into her now mostly empty glass and fills it back up again within a matter of seconds. It's been over a year since alcohol last passed her lips. Her self control has come as a shock even to her. Being sensible is all good and well for while, but there comes a time when it all just gets a little bit too much and she is finally ready to let go again. To become herself again; not just this walking, talking, eating and (occasionally) sleeping milk machine.

"Ha, ha. Very funny." She pauses and becomes a bit more somber. "I mean, I was! I am. I still am. It's just that Hayley's past six months now, in't she? And she's fine."

Nick nods. "She also kept you up all night. Are you sure that's got nothing to do with it?"

Michelle shakes her head at his outrightness.

Carla narrows her eyes at him.

"Shut up, Nicholas." She gulps at her drink again and gives a low, satisfied hum. "Oh, _God_. This is better than sex."

He almost chokes on air.

"Right. Thanks." He rubs behind his ear. "I think." She hasn't called him Nicholas before. No one does that. Not ever. But the way it sounds, the way she forms it; drawls it. It is something he thinks he could get used to hearing. He wants to get used to hearing her say it. "I'll take that as a compliment, shall I?"

She just grins at him, tilts her head and turns to Michelle. She takes smaller sips of her wine and is impressed that Carla has finally remembered the invite she gave to her to go out.

But Nick hasn't finished yet.

"Where is Hayley?" he asks

"With your Bethany," Carla replies.

"My Bethany?"

"Yeah." She nods. "She offered to take her for me out of the blue."

"Ah." Nick runs his hands along the bar. "I see she can be nice…"

"Yeah. When she wants to be, when she has an incentive to be."

"True." He makes a mental note to text Bethany later and ask her what she's playing at. "So, how come you're in here if you're out celebrating? A bit local, isn't it?"

Michelle nods at that. That was her earlier point Carla hadn't given the time of day.

"Ah. It is," Carla replies. "But the staff in here are just second to none."

She looks him up and down slowly, eyes settling on his tie which moves towards her. He leans in and replies in a whisper, "Good answer."

But before any kind of awkwardness can seep in, a large party enter the bistro and take Nick's attention away from Carla; and Carla's away from Nick. He leaves Carla and Michelle to it, the bottle of wine between them; a glass on each side.

Michelle looks more than amused, chuckling softly to herself as she catches Carla's eyes - that is, after they have watched Nick's figure walk away. Her own eyes are sparkling with mirth.

"What was all that about?" she asks.

"What?" Carla decides to act innocent.

"You know perfectly well." She nudges Carla's shoulder with her own. "You and Nick!"

"Well…" And she is careful about this. Takes her time to speak. "There is no me and Nick."

"Oh, I see." Michelle nods. "I see. And is that a problem?"

"No. That's a fact."

Carla goes back to her wine, but Michelle doesn't feel like dropping the subject quite yet. She looks over at Nick and, as predicted, she is already in his line of sight; though she knows it wasn't her he was aiming to look at in the first place. He smiles sheepishly at her and ducks his head, focuses back on the party he is with, but her intrigue doesn't end there.

"He can't stop looking at you," she tells Carla, this time with a genuine smile. Nick's nice; Nick's decent. The mundane life she knows he leads makes a change from that of the usual carnage Carla tends to get herself involved in, voluntarily or not, and Michelle welcomes it. If there is anything actually there to welcome.

The innocence is back.

"Who?"

"Nick."

"Oh, Michelle. Stop being stupid," Carla bemoans.

But Michelle can only laugh.

"What? He can't!"

Cautiously, she turns her head to see whether what Michelle is saying is true. And it is. Of course it is. Her gut knew before her eyes saw the evidence of it and she gives him a sarcastic smile, a whimsical wave across the room. Her chest feels heavy; her head light with more than just the alcohol she isn't sure how her body is going to take after so long of it not taking any at all.

She throws Michelle a disapproving look, hating to be proved wrong.

"Shut up," she says. "Just…" And a large smile overcomes her, one she can't even be bothered to conceal because Nick does make her smile. Finally, she is able to admit that. "Shut up and pour me another drink whilst you're at it, will you?"

* * *

 _This scene continues in the next chapter, but I wrote a bit too much for me to add the rest of it onto here. Thank you, as always, for your continued support! I'm not exaggerating when I say it means the world._


	6. Chapter 6

_A Slowly, Now update you haven't had to wait months for? No, your eyes do not deceive you! I honestly cannot thank you enough for your lovely reviews. They make me smile like an idiot. Thank you so, so much!_

* * *

 **Slowly, Now**

* * *

They are an hour into their evening when Michelle decides to bring him up again. He has disappeared into the back - has been gone for quite some time now - and she broaches the subject carefully, gives Carla a look ( _the_ look) directly beforehand so that she knows what she is in for. Carla sighs before words have even so much as left her best mate's mouth. She leans back in her chair and grimaces, ready for a grilling. Her glass of wine is fixed permanently into her right hand, as full as it is red.

"It all makes sense now, you know," Michelle begins. "I get it now. He—" She points behind the bar to where she imagines Nick is, just behind the wall rather than stood in front of it. "—is the reason you've been acting so secretive lately."

Carla scoffs. "Secretive?"

"Yes! All this sneaking off, throwing Hayley at me the first chance you get…"

"'Chelle," Carla interjects, looking rather smug. "I do that anyway. You know that."

Michelle shakes her head.

"But he is," she protests. A long pause follows her words. She takes a deep breath; it's all very dramatic when half drunk on less than a bottle. "You fancy him," she dares to say.

Carla does her utmost not to flinch.

"Sorry?"

"You. Fancy. Nick."

Biting her lip, Carla finds herself unable to meet Michelle's eyes and keep up the lie. She instead runs a finger around the rim of her glass, the glass she has become fixated by over the course of the past hour after being kept away from it - and its kind - for so long.

To admit to fancying Nick would make her seem weak. Even the word is cringeworthy to her. _Fancy_. Goodness, she has never really been one to develop a crush. When she falls, she falls hard. Falls instantly in some cases; goes against her instincts in a lot of others. But this, this thing she is yet to put a name to, this what is still unofficial and unattached and in many ways, this thing that makes her feel free, isn't like falling. It isn't like falling at all. She knows this because falling can be scary. It's terrifying at times.

This just isn't.

This is safe and it's comfortable and it makes her feel warmth where she once feared the ice would, once again, never melt. This excites her. This makes her look forward instead of back. It is everything she has never had before. It's cool, it's calm, it's casual. It's only Nick.

She isn't falling for him. At least, not in the usual way. The conventional way. She isn't falling; she can instead feel herself being dragged. Dragged into him, into his life, into all that he is. In essence, it's the same thing. But falling is fast. Dragging is slow. Dragging is done with care and caution and for every thought her mind conjures up of him, another runs alongside it, considering not only her own feelings, feelings she fears are running far too deep already, but those of her daughter as well, however small she still may be.

And she hasn't been pushed this time. She hasn't jumped or slipped. Everything that has happened thus far has happened for a reason, has happened with a purpose behind it. She has let herself go. Surrendered herself to him and all that doing so may lead to. She has trusted the man she can see beneath all that front, that performance he puts on behind his stupid, restrictive bar which hides most of what her eyes wish to follow. Hides most of what her eyes swallow whole the second they are given a chance to.

She catches glimpses every now and then of what it might be like. To do more than fancy him; more than appreciate the way he dresses, the tightness of his suits; how he smiles and means it, does the most genuine of gestures and asks for nothing in return.

And it doesn't scare her. It doesn't scare her because she wants to feel this way. She likes being made to feel this way.

Not that she'll admit any of this to Michelle, let alone when on the brink of drunkenness.

"I can't believe you just said that to me," she replies, laughing at the audacity of Michelle, who at this point is grinning and barely able to contain her giggles.

"You fancy Gail Platt's son! Just admit it!"

She admits nothing. Even if she were going to, she doesn't get the chance, for Nick's hand falls suddenly onto the small of her back and she doesn't know whether it is the alcohol in her system, her surprise of his presence, or just _him_ \- or a combination of all three - that causes her to very nearly slip from the bar stool on which she is perched.

She laughs uneasily and doesn't look at him.

"Is everything alright here? Can I get any of you ladies another drink?" he asks, everything about him bright.

"Why don't you get one for yourself, Nick, love?" Michelle replies. "It's dead quiet in here tonight."

Carla does not appreciate her interference. Nor the fact that she is right. The bistro is almost empty and it's not even eight o'clock.

"Oh…" Nick hesitates.

"Go on! I mean, someone's got to keep Carla company, haven't they?"

She stands with a start, bag and coat already gathered up in her arms.

"I'm sorry?" Carla is not impressed.

"Yeah, darling. I forgot that to say. We're short staffed tonight. I can't go leaving Liz in the lurch for a second time this week."

She goes to put on and button up her coat, swaying slightly as she does so. She hadn't realised she'd consumed quite so much wine until back up on her feet again; she is thinking on them, too.

"Look at you." Carla shakes her head. "You can't work - you can barely stand up! 'Chelle, you agreed to come out and celebrate with me."

She is desperate.

"Yeah, well. You can celebrate with Nick, can't you?" She drops her voice to a whisper after giving him the slightest of smirks. "I know you'd much prefer to."

"Michelle!"

With a cackle, she merely pats her friend's arm, downs the rest of her drink and calls, "See you later! Have fun!" as she leaves the bistro.

Incredulous, Carla swivels on her chair in the direction of Nick and scoffs. She is shocked, her mouth opening and closing multiple times, unable to form words for a good few seconds. She eventually comes out with, "Can you believe her?"

Rather than offering her any form of sympathy, Nick points to Michelle's now empty stool and smiles. "Is this seat taken?"

Carla rolls her eyes; shrugs at him.

"Go ahead."

Nick heavily drops himself down next to her. A moment passes of companionable silence in which Carla returns to her drink and Nick taps his fingers across the bar, the picture of a man lost deep in thought. Carla takes his distractedness as an opportunity to stare at him without, she hopes, being caught. She finds herself particularly drawn to his jawline, managing to tear her eyes from him only once he has let out a lengthy sigh, having suddenly snapped himself out of his trance.

He has realised something Carla gets the impression isn't as significant as his face is suggesting.

"What?" she asks.

"Well." And he sighs again. "Now I've sat down, I'm gonna have to stand back up and go _all_ the way around the bar to pour myself a drink. And I don't wanna do that. I'm far too lazy."

She laughs at him.

"You idiot."

His lips push outwards to form a pout. He shuffles closer to her. Does his best to get her to smile - and doesn't fail.

"Can I not just put a straw in yours?" he asks quietly, fingers toying with the end of one as he speaks.

It's hilarious to her that he would think she'd share her wine with anyone, let alone _him_ , after months of going without. It's been well over a year and she is... well, thirsty.

"No way, matey," she quips.

They hold each other's eyes for a long moment, their moment which broken by Carla standing from her chair, albeit on shaky legs, and purposefully brushing past him. She makes her way over to the opposite side of the bar than what she is used to and grins, turning her back to Nick as she scans the bottles in front of her, her hair falling over one shoulder exposing the skin of her neck to him.

He is in awe.

She holds an empty glass up in the air and waves it at him.

"What can I get you?"

* * *

To say Carla is tipsy would be a slight understatement. It's unclear whether there is any blood left in her veins at all. It has been replaced by the poison she hasn't drank more of than she used to, but a prolonged lack of exposure to it seems to have had a detrimental impact on her levels of tolerance. She'd be outraged by this fact - if only she were sober enough to acknowledge it.

She clings to him. At some point during what seems to have turned into a bizarre, impromptu wine tasting session - by the bar with its samples and empties and all that they have discarded placed on top of it - Carla stood up. Carla is still standing now, only managing to do so by holding onto the lapels of Nick's blazer and hanging off of him, not that he is complaining in the slightest.

Steph is. It's a good job she's working, too, because for the past couple of hours, she has watched her boss drink more and more, becoming less and less interested in the customers he is supposed to be serving. Usually, he spends his breaks alone, in the back with a glass of orange juice for company - and he never, ever takes this long. It seems that Ms. Connor is a bad influence on him, but the way Nick is looking at her suggests to Steph otherwise.

Gradually, Carla's steadiness decreases further up until the point where the only thing Nick can think to do in his state of intoxication is place a hand on either side of her waist to try and keep her still. Still and secure; and it works in more ways than one. Carla smiles at the motion. She is touched by it, leaning into him, so much so that her hair brushes his face and neither do anything to stop it.

"Leanne is not going to be happy with me," Nick says.

Carla hums. She seems tired, unused to nights out such as these nowadays. "What?"

"Well." Nick pauses and their eyes meet. "I dread to think of how much wine we've wasted 'trying'."

She pushes the last glass she drank from away from her. A grin threatens to tug at her lips.

"Yeah, but it was _so_ worth it."

Nick nods slowly.

"Do you have a favourite?" he asks, referring to the wine.

"Oh, I have many favourites," comes her reply. Her tone suggests they are not talking about the same thing.

"Care to share?"

"One day, perhaps…"

Slowly, with a breathy sigh she feels upon her face, Nick removes his hands from Carla's waist and she notices his lack of presence immediately. It is as if he has only just realised what it is he had been doing; how she isn't there for him to touch. She is there merely to be observed, if that, and he would be wrong to push his luck too far this early into an evening, this early into discovering how it is he actually feels for her.

He asks, "Shouldn't you be getting back?" Not because he wants to, but because he feels he ought to.

She is frowning a little. His attempt to distance himself from her is most unwelcome.

"Should I?"

"I don't know. What time did Bethany say she'll have Hayles 'til?"

She snorts. It's an automatic response she wouldn't even control if she had known it were coming. "Hayles? Are you serious?" She giggles at him. "Nick, don't call her that. It's borderline child abuse."

She manages to get a smile out of him for that.

"Shut up, Carla."

"Only if you shut up first."

"Well, we both know that's not gonna happen any time soon."

She shrugs. "Okay, then. That's fine."

The mood between them seems to have changed. It has changed so much, Carla feels brave. Or maybe that's just her, under the alcohol's influence. Either way, a plan forms in her head, one she knows she must carry out now or regret for the next however long it takes for her to get the same opportunity again.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's fine because I'm going to kiss you now. That'll shut you up." And she does; it does. Without warning. She closes her eyes and presses her lips to his and what she had only intended to be a peck lingers on for a few seconds more. She feels one of his hands seize her elbow, the one that is leaning against the bar, and is so very tempted to part her lips, to taste him properly - but something stops her. Her phone is vibrating in her pocket and she reluctantly parts from the kiss, the ending so abrupt, she is able to watch him slowly reopen his eyes, have them adjust to his surroundings, and the way in which they soften and focus on her face, combined with the genuineness of his slight smile and his hand that is still in contact with her bare skin, causes her stomach to flip.

"Are you not going to get that?" he whispers. He does not let go of her until she moves her arm from him.

"Yeah," she replies weakly, visibly shaken. The call is answered and her best responsible adult voice is put back on. She looks anywhere but at Nick. "Hello? Yeah, hi. Good, yeah! No. Shit, sorry. Is that really the time? I got a bit… carried away. No, not like that. Don't be stupid. Bethany. Excuse me. What? Okay, okay. I'm coming. Half an hour? Yeah, whatever. Okay. See you in a minute. Bye."

Nick's words are spoken quietly. "i'm guessing you've been summoned?"

She sighs heavily. "Unfortunately."

"Ah." He is doing this stupid thing with his lips where it is blatantly obvious he is limiting how wide his smile is until she is out of sight. "We'll have to do this again sometime."

"The kissing bit or?"

He laughs and it doesn't sound as awkward to her as she thought it might. He lets himself grin, just for the briefest of moments, and then seriously replies, "All of it."

She aches.

To distract herself, she stands, more sober now than she had felt minutes previously, and tugs on her coat as swiftly as she can muster.

"We will. We shouldn't let our busy schedules part us for as long the next time," she replies. As if it's that simple.

"Exactly."

She throws her bag over her shoulder.

"I'll see you later, Nick." And as she goes to leave the bistro, she trips over her own ankle, retaining her balance by gripping onto the bar tightly. She expects Nick to be laughing, but he isn't. He places a hand on her back to steady her, but it's all a bit too much for her right now.

"Mind your step," he says.

"I'm fine."

"Do you want me to walk you home?"

"No." God, she's all flustered now and she just wants to go. To be alone with her thoughts that she is currently receiving in the form of overeager shouts, if only it is for the short walk back up to her flat. "I'm fine, Nicholas. Promise."

His eyes narrow with scepticism.

"Pinky promise?"

He offers out to her the little finger of his left hand.

"I'm going." She chuckles slightly. "Night, Nick."

She is already out of the door by the time he replies, "Goodnight."


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you a ridiculous amount for your continued support! You're all darlings._

* * *

 **Slowly, Now**

* * *

She's unused to being hungover, but today she is. Her head is banging and the whole of her body aches. Hayley is good for her. It's obvious that the previous evening she spent in the company of Bethany has not done her any harm. Perhaps she could mind her for a second time when they, in Nick's words, do _all of it_ again. And Carla wants to say that when she got in last night, she lay in bed and overthought all that had taken place between them; every look, every touch, every exhale of breath that lasted just a moment too long; but that simply is not what happened. She had been far too tired for anything like that. Sleep came to her far too easily.

This morning, all she wants to do is eat. Go to Roy's and consume a bacon butty, avoid Michelle and what she knows will be her intense, unrelenting questions, and spend some time alone with her baby.

She doesn't think it is a lot to ask.

She doesn't think Nick will enter the equation at all. But, of course, he unwittingly does.

* * *

Nick wakes up later than usual. He is not hungover; at least, not in the way he is sure Carla is going to be. He shaves, showers, dresses. Leaves the flat and heads in the direction of Roy's. There is arguably a spring in his step following the events of the previous evening, though it is slight and wouldn't be noticeable to anyone who had not been there, witnessing what had taken place.

When he enters the cafe, he is pleasantly surprised to find Carla and Hayley, sat up in her pram with an eggy soldier stood tall in her tightly clenched fist, at the table closest to the window on the right side. Carla has a faraway look about her. She has eaten, an almost empty plate and a cold cup of coffee if the lack of steam seeping from it is anything to go by stacked up neatly on the table in front of her. Her eyes are focused on the teaspoon Roy would've brought over to her with the drink and she is not paying much attention to the babbling that is escaping Hayley's lips in between small mouthfuls of toast. Not wanting to disturb her solitude for the time being, Nick walks straight up to the counter and addresses Roy.

"Hey," Nick says.

"Hello." Roy glances over at Carla. Nick takes note of this. "What can I get you?"

He gives his order to Roy and then gestures his head in the direction of Carla, adding, "And another coffee for madam over there."

Roy nods and looks tempted to smile, deciding against it at the very last second. "Very good," he says. He pauses and then awkwardly says, "You know, she's not a morning person."

"I'm sorry?"

Nick frowns slightly.

"Carla," Roy explains. "Carla's not a morning person. I just… thought you might have wanted to know. That information might be useful to you in some way."

With an uneasy laugh and a mind wondering what on earth is being alluded to, Nick pays for his breakfast and takes the coffee over to Carla himself after it has been poured for her by Roy.

"Is this seat taken?"

They are the same words he uttered to her the night before and he is unsure whether it is the familiarity of them or the fact that he seems to have appeared out of nowhere that startles her, that her expression is a result of.

She sighs a little.

"Of course not." She moves over a bit to allow him room to sit down. "Sorry. I was miles away."

Nick gives a little smile. "So I saw."

The coffee is pushed in her direction and she takes it without a thank you, her head tilt enough for him to know that she is grateful for it. Nick relaxes back in his chair and notices there is something beneath his foot. Hayley is staring at him and upon realising what it is he has stepped on, Nick lifts Simon - the bear, not the boy - from the ground and sits him on her lap. She grabs his ear roughly with sticky fingers and he grins at her, shaking his head with mock disapproval.

"You really ought to be careful with him, Hayles," he says. "How many times have I had to pick him up for you now, eh?"

Carla looks amused that he is expecting some sort of coherent response from her daughter, but more taken aback that he would call her precisely what she has told him not to. The nickname will never not cause her to cringe.

Nick turns his attention quickly to Carla. There isn't any awkwardness between them, but he tries not to look at her for too long. He doesn't want to frighten her into thinking he is more serious about this than she is, even though he thinks he probably is. But it's not just that. He doesn't trust himself either. Looking is one thing, but he now feels he has to be cautious about the location of his looks. Her lips are a huge no go area for him now. The last thing he wants to do is make her feel subconscious about something she probably classes as a drunken mistake.

If only he had the guts to ask her about it.

"And how are you this morning?"

"Fine." Her reply is abrupt, the catching of his eyes short. She's as nervy as he is about this. Her stomach is unsettled. Carla is so desperate to get this right and coming on too strong, she has learnt from bitter experience, isn't something she should be doing.

"Just fine?"

She rolls her eyes at him. "I've got a bit of a headache, but that's a given, in't it?"

"You're just lucky it's a Saturday," he says to her. She nods with a slight smirk between sips of her coffee. It's far too early to be sat with such a smart arse and she can't not get her own back.

"Ah. So if it's a Saturday," she replies. "It's 'family day' for you tomorrow. If I'm remembering correctly, that is."

He groans loudly at the thought, throwing his head back. He's secretly touched that she has remembered correctly - and not for the first time either. He goes to speak, but Roy is placing his order in front of him before he gets a chance to. Once Roy has left, he makes eye contact with Hayley. An oblivious Hayley who is looking at him intently and reaching out to hold one of his hands.

He happily lets her squeeze his fingers. The noises she is making are ones of excitement; contentment.

"Families, eh?" he asks. "Who'd have them?"

* * *

Nick's question stays with Carla for the rest of the day. It is at the forefront of her mind when, later on, Michelle invites herself to the flat for tea with the sole purpose of interrogating her in the way she had earlier feared. She manages to dodge most of the deep questions, opting to fill her in on details, simply so that she will be left alone sooner. Hayley is put to bed by Michelle and when she reenters the living room to find Carla sat on the sofa, her phone in her hands and a smile on her lips, she can't help but ask, "You're texting Nick, aren't you?"

Carla groans.

"No, I actually wasn't. I was reading an email from a client as it so happens."

Michelle is unconvinced and merely shrugs her shoulders, taking a seat beside Carla on the sofa and nudging her gently with her elbow. Both the look she throws at her and the smile upon her lips suggest knowingness.

"What?" Carla asks. She is ever so slightly unnerved.

"If you're not texting Nick, then why aren't you?"

She receives a frown for that.

"Why would I be texting him when I've got nothing to say?" Michelle raises her eyebrows and this is the final straw for Carla. She sighs loudly and shakes her head in exasperation. "We're just friends, Michelle!"

"Yeah, but you don't want that. You want more. I know you do."

Carla neither agrees nor disagrees with the statement. Michelle then adopts a softer, more imploring tone as she asks her friend to, "Text him. Ask him to the wedding. Or the reception, at least. What harm can it do, eh? You both enjoy each other's company. You deserve to have a bit of fun if nothing else. And if Nick can give that to you, then…"

"Fine!" She grabs her phone, which she had placed onto the coffee table, before Michelle can even process the word.

"Fine?"

"Yes! I'll invite Nick to your bloody wedding if it'll really make you that happy!" She unlocks the phone, scrolls to her messages; and then it seems as if her confidence wavers. She pauses. Her finger is hovering over his contact, the screen on their previous text message exchange, and she stops. She breathes deeply and throws the phone down onto the couch, her legs crossing as Michelle looks to her, waiting for an explanation.

"I will ask him," Carla says quietly. "I was going to anyway, you know? Just not right now, yeah? I need to plan what I'm gonna say for one thing."

Michelle nods. "Alright, alright. But you're definitely going to?"

Carla doesn't even have to think on it. "Yes. Definitely."


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you so, so much for your lovely views!_

* * *

 **Slowly, Now**

* * *

Sunday: the day of family.

Nick reckons his mother might as well rename it _let's talk about Nick and his lack of a love life!_ day. It's all anyone can talk about. He's no spring chicken. Being told this information is no real surprise to him, even if it is a little cheeky when spoken aloud, but it's nothing he hasn't been told before and it's boring. Really, he should be glad for the change in subject around the dinner table as they feast upon their burnt Sunday roasts. And he knows this. These days, conversation is often dominated by Callum, by Kylie and her lack of presence, by Max's future and the uncertainty of it all.

But not today.

"Nicky, love. There must be someone you've got your eye on," Audrey insists. Nick can feel his mother's eyes on him as this is being said, looking for any indication that there is at least some element of truth in her mother's words.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding Bethany and Sarah, their smirks hidden beneath napkins, at all costs.

"Oh, Gran." Nick groans slightly. "I'm fine as I am. I don't need a woman to function."

"Hear, hear." A still desperately bitter David is knocking back his second can of the day. It's just a little after noon and Max and Lily are sitting on the floor of the living room, playing quietly with one another, having no idea of the constant turmoil their father is feeling every hour of every day. As long as he is awake, he is worrying. Planning. Anxious for the future.

Gail knows better than to question his drinking habits when his court date with Callum is looming over him, a dark shadow hanging above his head no matter what the time of day. She turns her attention back to Nick.

"No one is expecting you to enter anything serious," she says.

He rolls his eyes. "Nobody should be expecting me to enter anything at all."

"Dating can be fun, though, can't it?" This is directed at Audrey. Her face is a picture of confusion, wondrous as to how this relates to her. "Just ask your grandmother. She'd know."

"Excuse me, Gail!"

"Mum," Nick says with finality in his voice. "I'm not interested. In any of it. I am fine as I am. Now can we just drop it?"

There is silence. His words may not be entirely truthful, but he would much rather talk about other things. Talking about relationships only makes him want one, a particular one, more. It's a pipe dream if nothing else and he really needs to drop it. It's complicated, they're not suited, she could do so, so much better than him and he knows that she will once she's ready. She doesn't have the time to be messing around, the time to date and pick and choose between men who won't understand, men who won't be interested once she admits she has a child. Not right now. Because right now, she is a busy working mother. That's it; that's all. And he admires her for it more than he would ever dare say.

The family continue with their eating and it is Bethany who is the first to speak, raising her voice above the sounds of forks scraping against plates, glasses being placed back onto coasters.

"You are interested, Uncle Nick," she says casually, whilst knowing the full implications of her words. She ensures that Gail is looking in her direction of the table, the smile she paints upon her lips what she hopes is innocent. (It isn't.)

Nick narrows his eyes at her. "Don't play the uncle card with me."

"But you're intersted in Carla."

"Sorry, who?" Gail is leaning forward in her chair, as if being a fraction closer to her granddaughter is going to make her hear the name as something else, someone more desirable to her.

"Carla," Bethany repeats. She looks smug.

"As in Connor?"

Nick is shifting in his seat again. He would rather be anywhere but here.

The tension is real.

"Yes, Mum," he says with confidence he does not feel. "Carla Connor."

" _The_ Carla Connor?" And he knows she just isn't going to let it drop. There is disbelief in her tone, a telling off in the veins of her neck she has yet to unleash. Michael's hand rests on top of Gail's as if to prevent her from physically making her disapproval known. It is odd to think that Nick is almost thirty five; he doesn't get treated as such. "Is this the same Carla Connor who was more than happy to screw you over at the factory? The same Carla Connor who's an alchy? A single mother with a brother in prison for murder and multiple ex husbands to boot?"

The hypocrisy is not something he decides to pick up on because, quite frankly, he's used to it, it bores him and Carla is not the woman his mother is painting her to be. She's savvy when it comes to her business, her one constant and sometimes only friend. Yes, she's had her problems in the past, but who hasn't? Gail certainly has. And as for Rob; as for Hayley; Paul, Tony, Peter… He doesn't care. He just does not see the issue because there isn't one. Not as far as he is concerned.

"Yes, Mum. Her." He swallows thickly.

"Since when?"

Gail exclaims this, but is cut off from saying anything more by the sound of David's impressed laughter. "Right on, bro! She's _way_ out of your league."

Nick frowns at the whole table before shaking his head with confusion. It's too quiet, the attention focused too much on him and only him.

"We're not a thing," he insists.

"Not yet," Bethany mutters.

Nick loudly sighs. "Honestly. There's nothing going on between Carla and I. So if you could all just drop it, that would be great."

The family would have resumed their eating yet again if it were not for the ringing of Nick's mobile phone.

Sarah guesses who it is correctly. "Is that Carla?"

* * *

The courage comes to her suddenly. She's not stupid; she knows what day it is. He'll be surrounded by family and his aren't exactly what she likes to call shy. Nevertheless, she cannot put off asking him any longer. She can deal with the consequences of the call later.

Carla dials his number whilst sat on the sofa. Hayley is playing on her lap, chewing on a bit of her hair, and when he picks up on the other side of the line, she is smiling and he hears it in her voice. "Hello, you."

"Carla." He is speaking in a hushed whisper. She wonders where it is he has found refuge in the madhouse his mother keeps. The backyard? The garage? Upstairs? She can't tell from his words alone. "How are you?"

She lets out a soft sigh. "I'm good, thank you. Actually, no. I'm really good you'll be pleased to hear."

"And Hayley?"

"Hayley's… loving life." She appears to know she is being spoken about, beginning to crawl up her mother, wanting to reach and tug at her face. The action causes Carla to laugh.

Nick replies, "So. Did you call for a particular reason or…"

"Rude. You wanting to get rid of me, Nicholas?" Carla is smirking.

Nick, unaware of this, panics a little, replying, "No, no. Of course not. It's just…"

"You're busy. I get it. It's Sunday."

Relaxing slightly, Nick leans against the garden wall. Green grass stretches out before him; a ball, the shed, abandoned boxes containing things he'd have to strain to recognise. (Kylie's stuff dumped in a drunken rage is what he is guessing at.) Nick scuffs his shoe against gravel. "I see. So, this reason…"

He hates to speed up the call. Carla phoning him is something that doesn't happen very often. He isn't yet sure how to handle her by ear. Apart from that, he doesn't want her to think he doesn't want to speak to her. That couldn't be more untrue. It's just hard to enjoy (if that is even the right word) the conversation when he can feel at least four pairs of eyes peering at him through the kitchen window, discussing business that isn't theirs, suggesting this and that, wondering what and where and when.

"It's very important." Why she is bigging this up, Carla is not entirely sure. But it makes her feel powerful, she guesses. And she likes it. Smiling, she continues. "The 25th of May. You doing anything?"

If he had been, those plans have now been pushed directly to the back of his line of priorities. "No. I'm not as it happens. Why?"

She appreciates his lack of pause; his immediate response.

"Ah, good. Because you're coming with me to Michelle and Steve's wedding. I hope you don't mind." Her confidence impresses even her. She exhales sharply, hoping desperately that her forwardness will not backfire.

On the other end of the line, Nick cannot conceal a smile and hates himself for it, knowing it has been noted by every family member snooping. It is large and a giveaway and he coughs slightly, resting his head against the wall supporting him, facing the opposite direction to the window. "Oh, am I now?"

Carla laughs with delight. She doesn't even try to hide it. "You are."

"It's funny, you know. All this talk of a wedding. I always assumed you'd be requesting my babysitting services when the time finally came."

Carla shakes her head, even though he can't see. She kisses Hayley's head as the baby continues to mess on her mother's lap. She has now found a particular interest in the necklace Carla is wearing; long chain, bright on the eye.

"Yours or Bethany's?" she asks in jest.

"Mine."

Carla says, "Nope," and pops the 'p'. She bounces Hayley up and down on her lap. "She isn't even coming, you know. Hayley. It's Peter's week off and so she's going down to his." She pauses, almost as if for effect. "I'm not bitter about it."

"Of course you're not," Nick replies sarcastically, but she genuinely isn't.

"I'm not," Carla insists. "He doesn't get time off a lot. And he can't help when his holidays fall. Yes, it would be nice if Hayley could be at her Auntie's wedding, but she's too young to remember any of it. It's not such a huge loss."

"I'm not sure Michelle'll see it that way."

"Yeah. Well, she'll just have to get over it, won't she?"

Silence fills the line for an exaggerated few moments. Carla realises they have gone way off course - as is their usual way. She only rang to ask him; he accepted, so why is she still nattering down his ear? She laughs to herself, imagining the excuses he will have to have come up with in regards to his family. He's been gone a while now. She wonders whether they know, know who he is talking to and perhaps even what about. It unnerves her if she's being honest. The further Nick's family stay out of this, (for now, at least), the better.

"So, yeah. That's all I rang to ask, really!" Her words are verging on breathless.

"You didn't ask," Nick reminds her. "You told."

"Exactly." She is grinning. (And she isn't the only one.) "So, now you know."

Glancing at his family only metres away, now seemingly bored and having turned their backs away from the window and therefore his private conversation, Nick smiles into the phone. "The 25th of May," he repeats.

"The 25th of May."

Hayley looks up at her mother, all expectant and arms outstretched, nonsensical noises leaving her lips. Even she hears the whisper down the phone from Nick before the call is cut. "It's a date."


	9. Chapter 9

_Hi! I bet you weren't expecting this! I can't believe how long it has taken me to get this up. I've been writing this chapter for so long and the reason for the delay is the fact that I wanted this to be a really long chapter, but it just doesn't seem to happening in the way that I want it to. I can't thank people enough for their continued support of and patience with me and this story. I really hope now that this chapter is out of the way (so to speak), I can get on with writing more and updates will then be a lot more regular. Thank you so much again and I'm very sorry for the delay! I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

 **Slowly, Now**

* * *

The pleats in her dress have been irritating her since the moment she threw the garment over her head this morning. It's almost the afternoon now and she's downing champagne in her flat, Maria busy doing Michelle's hair on the sofa, music blasting from the stereo. Looking at the place, it's hard to imagine she lives here with a child. All of Hayley's things, along with Hayley herself, have been packed up and shipped over to Portsmouth. The exchange with Peter in the middle of Piccadilly Station is always an awkward one; less awkward the more frequently it happens, but awkward nonetheless.

"Carla. Pass us a glass of that bubbly, would you?"

Taken from her thoughts, Carla complies with Maria's request and hands her a flute. She smiles over at Michelle, at how radiant she looks, how truly happy for the first time in what seems to be forever.

Rubbing at the bottom of her dress, she quickly comes to the conclusion that it is not going to last her the full day.

"I can't stand this," she announces "I'm getting changed!"

Michelle stands, the action immediate. Behind her, Maria cusses under her breath, the clip she had just put in place now askew.

"No, babe! Don't. You look gorgeous."

"It's not that. The pleats are irritating me." Carla enters her bedroom. "Won't be two ticks!"

Michelle and Maria share something of a disbelieving glance, shaking their heads with amusement as they go back to their previous positions. Maria continues to pin Michelle's hair into an up do until the last clip is in place and there is a firm knock at the front door.

Michelle frowns. "Who's that?"

Shrugging, Maria turns down the volume of the speakers and goes to answer it.

"Nick…"

Michelle's eyes widen, a knowing smile spreading across her lips. Carla hadn't told her she'd actually gotten round to inviting him to the wedding. She's impressed.

Having had the door opened to him by Maria, Nick is slightly put out, his earlier confidence and knowledge in his head of what he was going to say to Carla lost. He awkwardly flashes his past lover a smile, unintentionally bouncing from foot to foot.

"Ah, sorry," he says. Maria is more than a little bit confused. Nick clears his throat. "Is Carla there?"

"She's just getting ready, babe," says a voice. It is Michelle's voice and it causes Nick to dip his head slightly into the flat, making him able to greet his friend properly. It's strange how quickly everything seems to have developed.

"Hi," he says.

"Hello." She smiles at him. "Come in, Nick, love."

Nick does as he is told, perching on the arm of the nearest sofa to the door. The door is clicked shut behind him. Michelle looks happy to see Nick. Dare he say too happy. Happier to see him than she is about her own wedding - or so it seems. He believes only what she wants him to.

"'Chelle! Which one looks better?"

Carla, without warning, comes parading into the living room. She is holding up two dresses by their hangers; one black, one white. All that is covering her modesty - and herself from her accidental audience - is a black, silk dressing gown her first instinct is to pull tighter around her upon making sudden eye contact with Nick.

The noise that she makes, upon realising he is present, makes Maria laugh into her flute of champagne. She isn't even subtle about it.

"Nick!" Carla gasps. The dresses are moved to cover her; something of a protective barrier.

Nick instantly blushes and looks away from her on instinct. He tries desperately not to show that seeing her in such a state of undress has caught his attention, but fails miserably. It is embarrassing for all parties involved.

"I'm so sorry, Nick. I didn't know you were gonna be here. I… wasn't expecting you." There is an awkwardness in Carla's voice, but the look she throws Michelle tops it by tenfold. She'd have appreciated a little bit of caution.

"No, it's my fault." Nick is staring at the ground when all he wants to be doing is staring at her. There is a part of him that wonders what might have happened had Michelle and Maria not also been present when he caught her in such a way, but he quickly silences that part of him - and gladly so - to focus on salvaging their date. Their date. He still can't seem to get his head around that; not entirely. "You said to meet at the registry office and I should've listened. I should've realised you'd all be here."

He flashes Michelle and Maria uneasy smiles.

Despite knowing better, Michelle can't help omitting a noise akin to that of adoration at his shyly spoken words. He is _so_ cute. Carla's look is no longer awkward; it is smouldering and it forces Maria to take it upon herself to try and keep a conversation flowing.

"Ah! So you came over to pick Carla up before the wedding? As a surprise?"

Nick nods before dipping his head, as if he is ashamed of having thought up such a gesture. Carla's heart hurts. She knows that he wouldn't be acting so bashful if they didn't have an audience, if everything would have gone to plan. She smiles at him; softly, genuinely. His eyes meet hers and she knows there and then that the only reason she has been so eager for Michelle's wedding to come around is the promise of being able to spend hours in the company of those eyes and the beautiful soul to whom they belong.

"Michelle." Michelle is surprised to hear her name coming from Carla's lips - especially because it is spoken in such a gentle way. "You don't mind if I don't come with you in the wedding car, do you?"

Michelle's smile is too large to be hidden. She doesn't even feel like hiding it.

"Of course not!" She sounds ecstatic to have been let down. Maria is finding the whole thing far too amusing. "You go with Nick, babe. You can meet us there."

Carla turns to face her best friend. She worries her bottom lip with a finger, her face full of thought. "Are you sure?"

"More than." Michelle squeezes Carla's shoulder.

They go to hug, but they can't even manage half of one - not if Carla is going to continue to use her dresses as a shield from Nick. Nick, who is quietly delighted. Nick, who does not know where or at whom to look.

"Okay!" Carla lets herself smile properly, properly in the direction of her date. "Five minutes and I'm yours, okay?"

She moves quickly into the bedroom.

Nick feels something pull tight in his chest.

 _I'm yours._

* * *

Carla and Nick arrive at the registry office early, being amongst the first of the guests to show their faces. Having opted to wear the black dress, it did only take Carla a maximum of five minutes to change before allowing Nick to tentatively lead her out of her flat to his car, parked at the door of their flat complex. During the relatively short journey down the stairs, their hands accidentally brushed together on a number of occasions; a flutter of a movement both against one another and inside each of their chests.

The wedding goes off without a hitch. There are no declarations of undying love from party members; no cold feet from the bride nor groom. There are no last minute jitters or midnight confessions or any disturbances to the proceedings of any kind. Without wanting to sound too cliché, there is only one word Carla can think of to describe the ceremony and that is perfect. As understated and glamorous as it is full of love.

At first, Carla had been unsure as to whether to invite Nick to the ceremony. She'd known from the off that she wanted him at the reception - that was never in any doubt. But it was the flowers and the chocolate and the romance involved alongside the exchanging of rings that made her think twice. She didn't want to give him the wrong impression. Too much too soon is never a good thing. She knows this only too well.

His presence at the ceremony surprises her, though she isn't quite sure why. By the end of it, Carla wonders why she ever thought asking him along could be a bad idea. He is good company; gentle company. They smile throughout and share slight, meaningful glances as Steve and Michelle say their vows, glances they attempt to hide with the bowing of heads as if their pink cheeks and shallow breaths are not obvious. They are unavoidable, so much so that they are the first thing Bethany picks up on when she catches them exiting Nick's car outside Victoria Court over an hour later.

Ever the gentlemen, Nick decides to play chauffeur, coming around to Carla's side of the car to open the door for her. She is giggling as he does so, chastising him for being so silly and extreme. (Not that she doesn't like it.) It is at the exact moment he reaches for her hand to pull her from the car that Bethany spots them on her way home from school, bag on her shoulder, ponytail swinging back and forth as she saunters over to them.

"How was the wedding?" she asks. "Go off without a hitch?"

Now on her feet and out of the car, Carla is quick to unlink her fingers from Nick's in front of his beady eyed niece, though they are slow to take a step back from one another. Their natural closeness is noted by Bethany.

Nick closes the car door behind Carla before locking the vehicle entirely.

"It was lovely, yeah," Carla replies with an actual smile on her face. She doesn't think she's stopped all afternoon. She's practically beaming.

Nick gently places a hand on Carla's back, urging her forwards as he adds, "And now we have a lovely reception to attend, so if you wouldn't mind…"

But Bethany doesn't move. She remains standing in front of them.

"A reception without the bride and groom?" She is frowning as if confused, but Nick can see through her forged innocence. She is meddling and she knows it.

"What do you mean?" Carla asks. Her eyes are narrowed.

"Well, I passed the pub on my way up here and saw the wedding car pull up outside. I went over to congratulate the happy couple, but the car drove off before I could cross the road. I asked Liz what was going on and she said they were still holding the reception for anyone who wanted to come, but Steve and Michelle wouldn't be attending."

Nick furrows his brow. "Why not?"

"Quick dart to the airport?"

Carla is baffled. "They hadn't booked a honeymoon. At least, not to my knowledge."

"It was Tony's treat - apparently. A last minute thing. Something about Spain?"

Carla and Nick share a look, nodding in mutual understanding.

 _Andy._

It all makes sense now and it is Bethany's turn to look confused. She shrugs her shoulders, indifferent, and adjusts her bag on her shoulder.

"Anyway, I'll leave you two lovebirds to get on." She grins at their faces, panicked at having been caught out. Their eyes are lowered and bodies turned instinctively away from one another, even though they are screaming for the opposite. "Enjoy your night!"

She pats Nick on the arm as she passes him.

"Be careful, Uncle Nicky."

Carla and Nick wait until she has entered the stairwell of Victoria Court to burst into laughter simultaneously, eyes rolling as they link arms and plough on towards the Rovers to find out what is going on.

* * *

 _I'd be hugely grateful for any comments or responses to what you thought of this. I won't lie: I'm rather nervous uploading it. It's been so long since the last time! I really hope people are still interested in this story. There's a lot more to come with it._


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